Life of the Party
by RepublicGurl
Summary: The Emperor is dead. Lord Scourge is under the impression that his life of oppression, servitude and torture are finally over... until he realizes he is expected to help the Jedi and Republic citizens with a week long celebration on their ancient homeworld of Tython. Turns out his true misery is just beginning. ::Features Jedi Knight story spoilers, companions and NPCs::


**Author's Note:** This entire story is wholeheartedly dedicated to the lovely **Taraum**! The story will feature my Jedi Knight, (a Miraluka woman named Eleya Shevani), her companions and many of the NPCs of the Jedi Knight's story. (And major spoilers for the Knight's story, obviously-so. Ya know; read with _caution._) Don't be surprised to see scenes of silliness and plenty of fluffy moments between multiple characters, even _if _the setting is on Tython, at the Jedi Temple...

The prompt _Taraum _asked for dealt with "**Home Ec**", but with my inability to follow simple directions, I decided to mesh it with the prompt "**Celebrations**".

Hope you like! :D

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><p><strong>::Prologue::<strong>

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><p>Four days since the feared leader of the entire Sith Empire has fallen. In his wildest imaginings, Scourge could not properly adequate what a life would <em>be <em>like without the constant threat of the immortal Emperor looking over his shoulder.

Well, now he knows.

And it consists mainly of an incessant- and incredibly _annoying _-knocking on the door of his assigned chambers within the Jedi Temple's Dormitory Halls.

_Go away, _Scouge sends telepathically through the Force. He is considerate enough to also let his frustration seep through, so whoever is on the other side of the door will be under no delusion of his wanting their company. Mercifully, after a moment, the knocking ceases.

With a sigh of relief, Scourge turns on his side. Finally, he will be able to slip back into the first bit of restful sleep that he hasn't been able to experience in a long time-

_Knock knock._

Scourge's red eyes shoot open, and he briefly contemplates Force choking his unrepentant visitor.

"This had better be _imperative_," Scourge growls under his breath, throwing the covers off of himself and swiftly getting to his feet. He's wearing only a pair of long, black sweat pants and when he glances at the chrono on the bedside table, he sees it's just after five in the morning.

The notion of a Force choke becomes even more appealing.

Moving to the door, Scourge fantasizes about all the ways he can intimidate the person who has the gall to wake him from his sleep. However, when he gets to the door and lifts his hand to the sensor on the wall to unlock it, he suddenly recognizes the unmistakable Force signature on the other side.

His hand freezes, hovering right before touching the pad.

Oh. Oh no. Of course it just _has _to be _her._

_Knock knock knock._

"It's rude to leave your guests waiting on you," says an insultingly good-natured voice, conversationally, on the other side. As if the speaker can see Scourge through the door, standing indecisively on the threshold. (In hindsight, the Sith Lord realizes that she really _can _see him, perfectly, through the Force.)

Scourge finds his thoughts of Force choking are rapidly changing to thoughts of attempting to escape through his bedroom window. Though, knowing the Jedi waiting for him on the other side of his door, he figures he wouldn't actually get very far.

_Force give me strength, _the Sith Pureblood thinks with gritted teeth, before allowing a scowl to settle over his facial features. He presses the sensor hard, and with soft _hiss, _the door slides open to reveal a young, Miraluka woman standing in the hallway. Her arms are clasped together behind her back and a goofy-looking half grin twists up the corner of her lips.

It is far too early in the morning to be so hopeful and optimistic.

"To what do I owe the displeasure of your visit?" Scourge deadpans. Completely unfazed, the Jedi woman's grin morphs into a full-blown smile. Through the Force, Scourge can feel her mounting excitement as if it is his very own.

It makes him want to punch something.

"Good morning, Scourge." Eleya Shevani says, and to Scourge's utter chagrin, the warmth in her voice sounds genuine.

It is far too early in the morning to be so polite.

"What is the emergency?" He inquires, folding his arms across his chest and leaning against the door frame. A look of confusion crosses Leya's face, her brow furrowing above her black eye-covering.

"Why do you think there is an emergency?" she asks, mystified.

Scourge blinks.

"Because there had better be one for you to be bothering me this early in the morning."

Simple enough, really.

"Ah." Leya replies, before giving an understanding nod. She turns her head to the left, and then to the right, as if checking the corridor to make sure she and the Sith are completely alone. She then leans forward, cupping her mouth to keep her voice muffled between the two of them.

Curious, Scourge leans down towards her slightly. His sense of smell has been returning the last three Standard days, though still heavily dulled from his memories prior to his curse. And yet despite only having some of the sense back, it is enough for the subtle, yet fragrant, smell of Leya's hair (zesty pine and sweet apples?) to overwhelm his nose.

Without thought, he inhales deeply to have more of the delicious scent. His mouth waters.

"In that case, I should tell you that it is an emergency of the highest order." Leya says, oblivious to Scourge's strange behavior. Or perhaps she is just becoming more accustomed to him and his ways. Her voice, for all intents and purposes, sounds grave enough to make Scourge straighten to his full height and narrow his eyes.

All notions of his slowly returning senses fade from his mind.

"What has happened?" he demands to know. His mind begins running through various scenarios, from a simple malfunction in the Temple energy generators, to a full scale invasion from the forces of Korriban itself. Fortunately, the later scenario is close to impossible of ever happening, but it never hurts to be prepared.

Leya opens her mouth, and Scourge tenses.

"Some of the imports for the upcoming Festival have arrived, and we're going to be sorting them out today for preparations." She confides, sounding for all the worlds like her statement is of the most vital importance.

Her words are met with momentary silence, and Scourge hopes the heat from his glare gives the insufferable Jedi third degree burns. He feels his fingers tingle, and the Darkness of the Force curls in his chest. He momentarily visualizes reaching out to seize the Miraluka, (preferably by her throat)- or just to _touch _her in any way he can -but then his visualization just seems to freeze at that last, unbidden stray thought...

... and he shakes his head to clear it. Getting violent won't help anything, and he's quite aware of the fact that despite Leya's naturally friendly demeanor, she's more than capable of dis-membering any of his offending body parts should he decide to physically assault her.

Besides, he's trying to _not _get maimed; especially now that the Emperor is gone and he's somewhat free. Free to strive to be more than his basic nature.

"What does any of that have to do with you being here at my door this Force-damned early?" Scourge snarls. He may be working on not acting out his violent impulses physically, but he still has quite a fierce reputation to maintain.

And a temper he is not so inclined to suppress.

Leya brings her hands together in a loud clap in front of her, and she rocks back and forth on the balls of her feet in giddy excitement.

"Because you are going to be helping me sort through all of the imports!" She tells him, as if it should be painfully obvious. "When Master Satele set up a volunteer chart yesterday for assignments before, during and after the Festival of Life, I signed you and I up as working partners!"

Scourge's mind blanks out for a moment, as he is unprepared to accept the pure inconceivability of how _idiotic _the woman before him constantly proves herself to be.

"_Why _would you- you are the _most_-!" Scourge moves his face incredibly close to Leya's; their noses only a hair's breath apart. The warmth and sweet smell of her breath washes over his face like a soothing balm, but he refuses to let himself be pulled off track from his righteous indignation. "I am much more liable to _murder _you, Jedi, than sit next to you and celibrate your Republic holidays; and you _know _this!"

He does not expect for Leya to lose her temper; he has never seen her do so in all of the time he has known her. And yet, he _is _unprepared for the change in her demeanor.

"Of course I do," Leya says in response, her voice soft.

The abrupt change from her excitement to now one of relative calm and meekness pulls Scourge up short. Her tone is laced with the weight of reluctant awareness and resigned acceptance. "I am not ignorant of where your true allegiances lie, _Lord _Scourge," she tells him, and the subtle derision in her voice makes Scourge wince back slightly.

She rarely sounds overtly disapproving; but when she does, there is a heaviness to it, to her convictions, that makes even the Dark in Scourge flicker in hesitation and unease.

"But I would think that with all of the time you and I have spent together- and _taking down the Emperor _-you would be more open to experiencing things like... oh, I do not know- _joy? _Having _fun? _Or is that against your Sith Code and I am wasting my time? Because, by all means, please let me know now so I can spare myself the inevitable heartbreak in the future."

Scourge cannot resist the temptation to snark back.

"No; fun is not against our Code. I'm surprised you even know what fun _is_, Jedi, as I'm sure that it's more than against _yours._"

And just like that, the Leya he knows is back; a slow, wry grin forming on her mouth. Faint dimples in her cheeks, that Scourge has seen more times than he can count everytime the Jedi finds a reason to smile or laugh, make their timely appearance.

Scourge exhales at seeing this, refusing to claim his sigh as one of relief.

"That sounds like a statement of fact, Lord Scourge," Leya surmises, cheek in her tone. This time, when she uses his honorary title, is is more playful than chastising. She takes a step closer, and Scourge finds himself pressing his back against the door frame. A soft chuckle escapes the Jedi, and this time it is she who is leaning her face up towards his. "Allow me the opportunity to prove you _wrong."_

And with that ominous statement, Leya turns and starts to walk away. Scourge continues to stand there, wondering what she could possibly be talking about-

"Meet me in the kitchens in thirty minutes," Leya calls over her shoulder. Scourge's nostrils flare.

"And what if I do not show?" he challenges for the sake of it. Leya turns to face him, continuing to walk backwards. Her smile turns somewhat devious, and something like liquid heat singes through Scourge's veins to know that smile is aimed at _him_.

"I will drag you there myself, kicking and screaming." She sing-songs pleasantly, before righting herself around and disappearing around the end of the hallway, her footsteps inaudible even on the hard, marble floor. Retreating back into the safety of his room, Scourge runs the palm of his hand over his face.

He eyes his bed, contemplating burying himself beneath his covers once again, but Leya's threat is fresh in his ears. With a sigh, he moves to gather some clothes and head to the 'fresher.

He isn't the most gifted of psychics, but _something _tells him it's going to be a long day.

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><p><strong>TBC.<strong>

**How is it so far, guys? Like it? Love it? Hate it? What would you like to see? (It's not all written out- I'm open for suggestions!) :D**


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